I had boiled squash last night with a little grated parmesan melted on it in the oven after the boilin’ got through takin’ place. That was not the highlight of the evening though. The highlight was a 2″ thick ribeye cut pork chop grilled over mesquite. I foundered myself. Also we had some baby spinach leaves sauteed in olive oil with a dose of garlic powder. That was a first for me. Washed it down with a pretty good dose of Maker’s Mark and coke. Which wasn’t to bad either.

Will keep that in mind although I wasn’t doing any of the cooking last night. We did put some fresh minced garlic in some guacamole earlier in the day if I remember correctly. But I’m not saying that I do.

Oooooo….speaking of which, I forgot to take another look at the burned down attached garage I saw on my way to work. DIdn’t notice it yesterday and you can’t miss it, so it had to happen during last evening’s explosive festivities.

I’m about as adverse to veggies as the next white man, but squash is pretty much tolerable as long as it stays under the once a week threshold. Zuchinni, spinach, okra, tomatos, and green beans also make semi regular visits to my plate. And if you haven’t eaten a Texas Ruby Red Grapefruit from the Rio Grande Valley, then you are running a sad deficit in your life experiences. I know….I know Grapefruits ain’t veggies. I’m just sayin.

When we could garden without the Elk interfering, we would go out back, get a couple-three crook-neck squash, a Walla-Walla Sweet onion, and two Yukon Gold spuds. Bring ’em in, wash them, slice them into the skillet with olive-oil and salt. That was dinner!
It was great.
We were full , it was good, and (by GOD) we were regular!
Would that we could do that again…

I have a Duncan grapefruit tree. For a white grapefruit it is not too bad. I give them to my mom and my aunt, I might eat 1 a year.
I love my pineapple oranges and my navel oranges. I lost my blood orange to drought this year, but my Meyers Lemon is producing.

Oh, I friggin’ hate cauliflower, though. I don’t know why anyone bred the goodness and color out of broccoli and forced it into every store-built veggie tray. It’s always untouched at the end of the night.

I’ll never forget changing Son Michael’s diaper when he was a newborn.

No sweat at first, while he was being breast fed. There was hardly any odor. Then we switched to formula. I was not prepared.

The first formula-based diaper change was a shock. The stench was amazing when I cracked that diaper open. I was hanging my head out of the nursery door, trying to get some fresh air and control the dry heaves, while keeping a hand in the nursery to prevent Son Michael from falling off the changing table.

PJD had a hard time changing Madeleine’s diapers. It grossed him out to no end. The boys? No problem, but he didn’t like the thoroughness that was required with girls. I prolly got him to change a total of 3 poopies with her.

When we had two kids in diapers (they were just eighteen months apart) I was famous amongst my friends for the “dipstick test” to find out if a diaper needed changing. Meaning, just stick a finger in and observe the result.

I figured, if the finger comes up clean, all is well. If not, you were gonna have to wash your hands anyway before this was over.

hahahaha, Michael, that was always the worst for me. When I’d stick my finger in, not to do a dipstick test, but to pull the diaper away so I could peer inside and WHAM-O!! I’d get nailed because it had exploded up the backside. My favorite is when it gets under your fingernails. mmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, Barack Hussein Obama

The one I can’t figger out is the Progressive Ins chick. I’m on some website here recently and a bunch of dudes are poating about how they’d like to nail her. I’d rather run my fingernails along a dusty chalkboard for an hour than be in a room with that one. I’d drag my teeth along ten yards of curb before I’d hit that shit.

“Pete, the personal rancor reflected in that remark I don’t intend to dignify with comment. But I would like to address your general attitude of hopeless negativism. Consider the lilies of the goddamn field or… hell! Take at look at Delmar here as your paradigm of hope.”

I’m talking to a guy the other day who has done some body work for me in the past about taking some dents out of my pickup. He paints, coats, and sandblasts oilfield equpt for a living but does a pretty damned good job of straightening out sheet iron on automobiles and painting it back up to spec, on the side. He works for about half of what the professional shops charge. Anyways, we’re making small talk while he’s mentally coming up with a ballpark figure for fixing my pickup, and he laments the fact that his 19 y/o daughter is still living under his roof and eating his groceries. Then he says, “But at least she’s not smoking crack or knocked up. So I guess she’s doing alright.” I thought, ‘Damn Butch, let’s set that bar a little bit lower, why don’t we?”. Course I didn’t say nuthin, cause I need him to fix my pickup.

I got into work my Chief asked me if I was planning on wearing that diaper over my shoulder all day!

My son, when he was three or so, patted me on the back, and I thought, aw, how sweet. The little imp put a Chiquita banana sticker on my back, and it was a couple of hours before one of my co-workers asked me if I knew I was wearing a sticker.

And the poops and drools…….I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Those things were nothing compared to the overall joy of having a baby around.

Now the pukes…I had a hard time with once they hit about 5. By then they should know if they feel nauseous, hang out by or move quickly to the toilet. My kids would just lay there and erupt like a volcano. Not only do you have to clean them up, but you’d have to do the whole bed change. Mostly because Mr. Beasn trained them that he would come running and carry them under the pits to the bathroom….leaving a trail.

And when you want to change a baby boy’s diaper, you have to pin him down with your feet on his shoulders*, and move quick. Little dude escapes sans diaper, which he always attempts, you could be in for some kind of trouble.

Now the pukes…I had a hard time with once they hit about 5. By then they should know if they feel nauseous, hang out by or move quickly to the toilet. My kids would just lay there and erupt like a volcano. Not only do you have to clean them up, but you’d have to do the whole bed change. Mostly because Mr. Beasn trained them that he would come running and carry them under the pits to the bathroom….leaving a trail.

I can’t blame mr. beasn for that. My kids would do the same thing. They just don’t have the energy to up and run to the toilet.

pjm, when we were kids, if we tried that with our parents, our asses would have been kicked. If we felt sick, we camped outside the bathroom door

at 5? Your parents were bullies. I can’t even imagine my kids doing that. However, when they’re sick enough to puke, they’re lethargic and barely conscious and most likely puking in their sleep. I always have to make sure they don’t choke. It’s scary.

Now, if Graham or Madeleine did it, it’d be a different story. They’d have to seriously have something bad going on for them not to be able to make it to the bathroom.

One time, my son slept in my daughter’s room and he puked all over her. He was put back in his room and she was the one that had a middle of the night bath. He as the worse of the two as far as puking in his sleep.

When he was around 9 or 10, I walked by his room and smelled something loud. He blew out the other end and didn’t crack an eye. He was half asleep as I gave him simple instructions on clean-up outside the bathroom door.

I hosed the sheets down and pitched his undergarments. Good thing he has outgrown it.

When he was around 9 or 10, I walked by his room and smelled something loud. He blew out the other end and didn’t crack an eye. He was half asleep as I gave him simple instructions on clean-up outside the bathroom door

hahaha

gag

I remember being about 10 and home alone sick as a dog and I got up and tried to run to the bathroom, somehow I fell and yacked all over the carpet. I just laid there and passed out till my parents got home.

I remember being about 10 and home alone sick as a dog and I got up and tried to run to the bathroom, somehow I fell and yacked all over the carpet. I just laid there and passed out till my parents got home.

I remember being about 10 and home alone sick as a dog and I got up and tried to run to the bathroom, somehow I fell and yacked all over the carpet. I just laid there and passed out till my parents got home.

in-laws. Yet another wondeful weekend with the family. Worked all day Saturday preparing for a party fro about 100 people, worked all day Sunday at the party, then worked all day today cleaning up after the party.

It’s amazing that I seem to be the only son or son-in-law who is capable of setting up tables and chairs, using a BBQ grill or cleaning up afterwards.

Mare’s Musings

February 18, 2018

I’ll tell you, I had to turn the Olympics off last night. The gay overload with the gay flags and gayness and the gay skier and the all about gay was too much for me. How does being gay have ANYTHING to do with skiing unless you’re purposefully landing on a pole?